


Overtime

by orphan_account



Series: Nine-to-five 'Verse [2]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitute, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen moves in with Jared, or as close to it as it gets in their non-relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jensen moves in the following weekend. Chris isn't in town, but a few of his friends from his old building stop by to help out, lugging boxes and telling the movers where to put the furniture.

"Okay, see. I wasn't jealous of you before, Mr. Fancypants VP, but now? I am so totally jealous." Sandy says as she opens the door to his new, richly appointed en suite bathroom. "You're giving me an extra key so I can come over and use your hot tub," she informs him.

Jensen laughs and agrees, "Of course."

"Seriously dude, how'd you land a place like this?" Chad says as he drops a box on Jensen's bed. Chad's a douche, but Jensen plays nice because he's dating Sophia and Jensen really wants to stay on her good side. It's a little bit pointless though, because he's pretty sure half the time Chad himself isn't on her good side.

"I work with the guy that owns the building. He offered me a good deal." Jensen explains it as casually as he can.

"Sweet," Sandy says from where she's poking at all the knobs and dials in Jensen's shower. "How about you introduce me to this guy, eh?" She says with a grin and Jensen thinks _not fucking likely._ It's not that he's selfish; it's just that he's being practical. Mr. Padalecki getting distracted by a cute brunette would kind of ruin the hot deal he's got going on.

"I think he's involved with someone."

Jensen intentionally stops himself from thinking about how messed up it is that he's trying convince anyone that Mr. Padalecki is in some kind of relationship. For all he knows, Jared has a boyfriend stashed away somewhere who he goes to see on the weekends. It makes his gut twist to think about it.

*

The first morning starts off badly. Jensen gets the text at 7:02am just as he's getting out of the shower, dresses and preps the same way he does for their office meetings. He's upstairs by the service entrance to Mr. Padalecki's apartment by 7:20.

Mr. Padalecki opens the door, hair askew and wearing only a thin pair of running sweats. His face falls.

"You're dressed."

"Uh," Jensen responds eloquently.

"Too late now, just come on." Mr. Padalecki pulls him inside, strips him down to his boxers in three seconds flat. He's already cupping Jensen's cock through his shorts and mouthing at his neck before he continues, "In the future? Don't bother getting changed. If I wanted you all suited up I'd wait 'til we got to the office."

They fuck in the hallway, Jensen pressed face first against the wall with Mr. Padalecki digging his fingers into his hips. Jensen knows he'll have bruises and be sitting uncomfortably the rest of the day, but he couldn't care less. He comes all over his stomach and the wall, Mr. Padalecki jacking him off until he's oversensitized and gasping. His cock is aching and raw by the time they finish, both of them leaning back and laughing breathlessly at the telltale spot on the wall.

"I'll hang a picture over it," he says as he pulls out.

"At waist height?"

"Hey, midgets like art too," Mr. Padalecki fires back as he tugs Jensen towards the bathroom to clean up. Jensen shakes his head and follows, strung out and stupidly happy.

They both end up late to work.

*

Jensen spends his lunches wandering around the city, exploring his new neighborhood and just generally playing tourist. His phone occasionally bleeps with a message from Sophia, always carefully worded to cover their asses. _2pm cancelled, meeting with a client tonight, 8-11._

"Meeting with a client" is the new code phrase for an appointment. They'd run through a whole list of possibilities, from the completely inane to phrases taken straight from bad porn.

"Clean my pipes, hoe my garden, um what else? ...Oh, baste my turkey!" Mr. Padalecki had joked one night as he traced his thumb over Jensen's swollen lips. Jensen had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud.

"No?" Mr. Padalecki had asked.

"You really want me to 'baste your turkey?'"

"I love turkey."

Thankfully Sophia had ignored all of Mr. Padalecki's suggestions and gone with something more low key.

'Meeting with a client' meant they'd have some time, 'boss needs a minute' meant a quickie. 'Buried in paperwork' came up just as often; it generally meant that Mr. Padalecki would come home late, looking exhausted, and doze sprawled out on the couch while Jensen stands behind him and massages away his tension headache.

Jensen gets used to setting his alarm early and checking his phone first thing in the morning.

He learns to read Mr. Padalecki a little better, can usually tell by the end of the day if he's going to be on call the next morning or if they'll wait until the afternoon. Some days go by like a sprint to the finish line, Jensen barely has time to clean up and catch his breath before he's being slipped another note or his phone chirps with a message. Other times, when the shit hits the fan at work, Jensen is pure stress relief; rode hard and left just as fast, head spinning and cock still hard.

*

Another month goes by and Jensen is pretty sure they've fucked in almost every room of Jared's apartment.

And _fuck_, he keeps doing that, thinking Mr. Padalecki's name and he's sure if he doesn't stop he'll slip one day and say it out loud. They've never really talked about it, Jensen just knows calling Mr. Padalecki by his first name would bring their whole arrangement tumbling down. He knows Mr. Padalecki likes the control and the simplicity of it. And Jensen is perfectly happy with the way things are, so he calls Mr. Padalecki 'sir' every chance he gets, like that can make up for his occasional mental slip.

Jensen's also pretty sure that the housekeeping people must hate him. After they've gone at it hard, whatever room they're in tends to look like it's been hit by a tornado. There's always stuff knocked over and Jensen's socks and underwear always end up getting tossed somewhere that makes no sense. He literally picks his boxers off a light fixture one time, to Mr. Padalecki's endless amusement.

"You should just stop wearing them," Mr. Padalecki suggests, and Jensen can't tell if he's kidding or not.

He decides to err on the side of caution and goes without the next day. Jensen's kneeling over Mr. Padalecki in his office chair, his legs bracketing Mr. Padalecki's, and when Jared (_dammit,_) pulls open his fly and finds bare skin, he gapes.

"You've been... The whole day?"

"You said, um. Yeah," Jensen mumbles as Jared palms his cock. Mr. Padalecki rolls a condom on him (neither one of them wants Jensen to mess up Mr. Padalecki's suit) and jacks him off. Jensen clutches at the back of Mr. Padalecki's chair, and thank god it's a sturdy chair, because he's taking it unbearably slow today. Jensen isn't sure how or when it happened, but at some point Mr. Padalecki became the one person in the world who knew how to hit all his sweet spots.

He curls forward and rests his forehead on Mr. Padalecki's shoulder; lets him take whatever he wants.

Mr. Padalecki kisses him just under his ear, wraps an arm around his shoulders and jostles him until he leans back and stumbles back to his feet. Mr. Padalecki gives him a lazy smile and waves him off to the bathroom.

"What about you?"

"Later," Mr. Padalecki says with a lazy smile. Jensen spends the rest of the day feeling off-kilter.

*

Later that night he's sprawled out in Jared's bed. _Mr. Padalecki's bed,_ he corrects himself.

The bed is tangled and a little gross with sweat and come, but Jensen couldn't care less. He's relaxed and comfortable, listening to the sounds of Mr. Padalecki in the shower and idly running his hands over the sheets. They're expensive; Jensen doesn't know anything about sheets, but he can tell just by the feel of him. They slide over his skin as he stretches, bunch around his legs soft and light as air.

There's no clock in the room but he's pretty sure it's coming up on midnight. Jensen knows he has to leave soon but he's too comfortable to move.

*

Jensen wakes up the next morning with a start. He blinks a couple times, looks around blearily and waits for his contacts to rehydrate and his eyes to stop burning. They don't.

The room looks familiar but it's not his. _Shit_, he realizes, he's still in Mr. Padalecki's bed. He can hear Mr. Padalecki moving around in another room, looks down to find a telltale dent in the pillow next to him. Apparently he didn't sleep alone, either. Jensen finds his boxers hanging off the arm of a chair in the corner of the room, hops as he tugs them on makes his way out of the room and towards the kitchen where he can hear Mr. Padalecki banging around.

He clears his throat when he steps into the room. Mr. Padalecki turns to look at him, already mostly dressed in an unbuttoned shirt and slacks. A tie is draped loosely around his shoulders.

"I am so sorry- " Jensen starts to explain, but gets cut off.

"Don't worry about it, Jen. If I wanted you gone I'da woken you up and shoved your ass outta bed."

Mr. Padalecki glances down at Jensen's stomach, at the dry come flaking on his skin. Jensen wraps his arms around himself; he feels disgusting and knows he probably looks worse. But Mr. Padalecki hasn't technically dismissed him, so he doesn't know if he's supposed to leave or not.

"Take the morning off, but be in for our two o'clock," Mr. Padalecki says as he walks towards Jensen and back to the bedroom. As he goes by, he shoves a cup of coffee into Jensen's hands. Jensen downs the coffee, gathers his clothes and is on his way back to his own apartment before Jared is even finished getting dressed.

Jensen spends an hour in the shower that morning, grateful for the reprieve and still berating himself for appearing in front of his boss, his _boss_, half asleep and crusty with dried come. It bothers him more than it should that Mr. Padalecki didn't just poke him awake and send him home.

He hangs his head and lets the spray hit the back of his neck. His eyes are still dry and stinging from sleeping with the contacts in, even though he'd chucked them the second he'd gotten home.

Jensen spends the morning puttering around his apartment. For all the perks of the new place, he hasn't actually spent much time here. His shelves are filled with books he's never read; gifts from family members that don't really know him and random ones he picked himself but just never got around to. He's got a shelf full of video games that he only ever plays when Chris comes over.

There's no cleaning to keep him busy, no laundry that needs to be done, and no dishes in the sink. The concierge service in the building takes care of that, efficient and discreet, like every thing else in Mr. Padalecki's life that bleeds over into Jensen's.

Jensen sinks down to sit on the couch, flicks through the channels on tv without really watching.

*

That afternoon Mr. Padalecki waves him into his office like nothing's happened. He locks the door, holds all his calls and fucks Jensen over the desk.

Afterwards, Jensen is lying naked across the desk with his head pillowed on his hands and Mr. Padalecki is sitting back in his chair, one hand resting on the small of Jensen's back. He's kneading a little bit; working his thumb into a knot of muscle just to the left of Jensen's spine.

"I'm sorry, about this morning," Jensen mumbles into desk. Mr. Padalecki's hand stills.

"Thought I told you to forget about it. You need me to type it up and send you a memo?"

"Sophia would never forgive you."

"Oh I don't know, we'd have to use some creative phrasing. What's a nice, clinical way of saying 'fell asleep on the job'?"

Jensen winces, pushes his face harder against the wood grain of the desk. But Mr. Padalecki just keeps talking. "Of course, a good supervisor always tries to look for the root cause of a problem. When an otherwise attentive and hard working employee screws up, there are probably contributing factors to consider."

There's the sound of Mr. Padalecki shifting behind him, Jensen feels the fabric of Mr. Padalecki's shirt brushing against his ass and his bare thighs. Mr. Padalecki's thumb slips down his crack, rubs over his hole.

"Am I working you too hard, Jen?"

"No," Jensen says quietly, head still buried in his arms.

"Head up," Mr. Padalecki orders. Jensen tips his head back, but doesn't turn around. He can't want to have this conversation facing Mr. Padalecki. "What was that?"

"No, sir."

Jensen hears a soft sigh.

"The rules we have, the time limits, appointment schedules; they're there to protect you. It can't be my responsibility to enforce them." Mr. Padalecki's thumb slips inside, nail catching on the tender skin and Jensen flinches. " 'Cause I'm a pretty good guy, but you leave it up to me keep to them, and I can guarantee you I won't."

Jensen grunts as Mr. Padalecki pulls his finger out. His legs are starting to ache from laying like this.

"I was asleep, you weren't keeping me up the whole night with marathon sex."

"I'm a details kind of guy, and big problems start with little slips. Your contract was specifically built to give you a little leeway. Think about it, have you ever declined a meeting?"

Jensen snorts. "Yeah, I'm a regular workaholic. How is that a bad thing?"

Mr. Padalecki just waits. Jensen lets his head fall back to rest on his arms, counts his breaths to keep himself busy. After a few minutes, he starts to worry, thinks they must be running past their meeting time. He hears Mr. Padalecki open a drawer on the right, soft _swish_ of a tissue being pulled out. Mr. Padalecki wipes off his hands and Jensen watches the balled up tissue sail past his head and into the trash bin right outside the bathroom door.

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, stretching and curling his toes to stop the pins and needles. He knows Mr. Padalecki is watching him fidget, feels a warm hand settle on his lower back and press down. The order is clear, _stay still_.

A second later the hand pulls away and he can hear light tapping on the keyboard off to his right. The bastard just went back to work, with Jensen still laying there naked with come dripping down his thighs.

Jensen debates for another couple of minutes, but the tapping of the keyboard is grating on him. If he's not here to do anything, then why is he waiting? He starts to slowly push up off the desk, waiting for some sign from Mr. Padalecki that he's not allowed. But Mr. Padalecki just goes on typing, even when Jensen stands up completely and walks around the desk to retrieve his clothes. He wipes himself down and gets dressed, walks out of Mr. Padalecki's office without a word and back to his own.

He's shaking and irritated, kind of wants to go back in there and yell at Mr. Padalecki for pulling that shit on him. They have a careful arrangement; Jensen knows he's basically a high class whore, but Mr. Padalecki's always at least treated him like a person.

Jensen spends the rest of the afternoon working himself into quiet rage. Mr. Padalecki had clearly been finished with him, but Jensen's not a freaking mind reader, how is he supposed to know when to leave? Mr. Padalecki couldn't just be a decent human being and give him a clue? By five o'clock, he's fuming.

He storms over to Mr. Padalecki's office, catches him on the phone with someone. Jensen stands in front of the desk with his arms crossed, boring holes into Mr. Padalecki's stupid dimples while he finishes up the call. Mr. Padalecki hangs up the phone and smiles at Jensen like absolutely nothing is wrong.

"Hey, you want something?"

"What the hell was that?" Jensen fires back.

"That? Was a phone call with the L.A. branch manager, who's having a problem with-"

"Not the phone call, Jared! The- the- leaving me there, telling me to stay, ignoring me, not-" Jensen is ranting, probably not making any sense but he's beyond caring. Because every word he says, Mr. Padalecki's grin just gets larger and it just pisses him off more. Finally Jensen runs out of breath and stops. "_What?_"

"Aw, Jenny's got claws. And apparently I actually have a first name, here I was beginning to think it was 'sir.'" It takes Jensen a moment to calm down enough to think back and realize his slip. Shit. Mr. Padalecki doesn't actually sound angry though.

"Take a seat," Mr. Padalecki orders. Jensen shakes his head, he's still too pissed to sit down. Or take orders, for that matter.

"Fine. You want to know what that was? That was you making a decision of your own for the first time in almost a year." Mr. Padalecki shakes his head. "Appointment times are set in advance, including the duration. It was well passed three before you left."

"It's not like I had a watch to check," Jensen says, feeling lame for the excuse before he even finishes the sentence.

"So you decided to wait with your ass in the air like a cheap slut until _Master_ told you you could leave?" Mr. Padalecki asks with a sneer. Jensen feels his face heat with a blush and hates himself for it, but he rallies.

"What's so wrong with wanting to be good at my job?"

"You _are_ good, Jensen. I wouldn't keep you around if you weren't."

Jensen finally sits down, feeling drained. He stares at a far corner of Mr. Padalecki's desk.

"This job is all I have. I need to be good at it."

He can feel Mr. Padalecki's eyes on him, focused and unblinking. Jensen hates how exposed he feels, how small. How pathetic.

"Go home and get some sleep." Jensen looks up, scared. Mr. Padalecki reads his fears easily. "I'm not firing you, just. We'll talk tomorrow. Go home, Jen."


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen does as he's told. He's too worn out for anything else; confused and shaken by the things Mr. Padalecki had said.

Everything has always been so straightforward between them; a relationship defined by contracts and code phrases. And sex has never been particularly complicated for Jensen, at least, not since he was fourteen and had fallen madly in lust with his Pre-Calc teacher. Sure, he'd flunked math for three semesters straight, but he'd gotten over it eventually, moved on to a series of good and not-so-good casual flings. He'd been young, and he still is. He doesn't want anything more.

And if Jensen can get paid to have lots of great sex with a hot businessman, why the hell not? It's not like an opportunity to live like this comes along often, if ever. He's half terrified he's ruined it, his stomach is knotted with dread and disappointment. He's not ready for the ride to be over.

His phone beeps. _  
_

_  
are you asleep?_

  
It's from Jared, which is new. All his messages are usually routed through Sophia, keeper of the sacred day planner. Does this mean- ?

_  
should i come up?_

_maybe i really do need to start sending you memos._   
_Go. To. Sleep._

  
Jensen flips his phone closed. He pours himself a shot or three of Cuervo, cradles the glass and the phone in one hand and clumsily strips off his tie and shoes and pants. He sits down heavily on the bed, drops the phone on the side table and downs the alcohol in one swallow. It burns a bit as it goes down, sweet and familiar.

He feels hazy almost instantly. Too soon to be the alcohol, probably just exhaustion kicking in.

Jensen lays back, thinks maybe he has been working a lot lately. There have been a lot of early morning calls, Mr. Padalecki likes having him first thing, when he's fresh off the adrenaline high from his workout. Jensen sneaks upstairs in the service elevator, hair still mussed from sleep or wet from the shower and wearing just his boxers and a thin t shirt.

Night calls are just as frequent, sucking Mr. Padalecki off while he sits on the couch, one hand resting on Jensen's head and the other wrapped around a cold beer as he half watches the news.

The thing is, Jensen's never really thought of his meetings with Mr. Padalecki as _work._ He doesn't always get what he wants, but to say he leaves any of the meetings unsatisfied would be a lie. Mr. Padalecki's usually good about offering a reach around, sometimes doesn't because he likes watching Jensen fall apart and then fumble putting his pants back on and trying to compose himself; walk out still hard and trying to act like nothing's happened. Even those times just provide him with more fantasy material, memories to call up in the rare moments when he's alone and hard. Like now.

He peels off his shirt and shorts, chucks them off the side of the bed and slides under the covers with his hand already wrapped around his dick. It's pure stress relief, no technique just a quick sprint to the finish. By the time he comes he's already mostly asleep, too strung out to care about cleaning up and lost in half-formed dreams.

*

Jensen wakes up the next morning feeling gross. He's still lying in the mess of his own come, and his eyes feel like they've been glued shut. He climbs out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom, downs two glasses of tap water and climbs into the shower. He makes a note to himself that drinking before bed has never been a good idea, not that it's ever stopped him.

By the time Jensen steps out of the shower he feels more or less human again. He checks his phone but there are no messages, so he assumes he's free for the morning. He pulls on sweats and heads down to the gym, brings his phone just in case. He hasn't been keeping up with exercise, realizes belatedly that spending most mornings with Mr. Padalecki has messed up his normal routine. Jensen moves through the gym, tries out the machines and nods politely at the other early risers.

There are a few other people in there with him, other people putting in some time before they head out to work. Jensen's not sure how he became one of their crowd; if he actually is one of them. He has all the outer trappings: the job, the apartment, the tailored suits. But these people actually like the nine-to-five bit, filing paperwork and gossiping at the water cooler, year end reviews and Christmas bonuses.

Jensen's year end review had been spent getting his ass reamed, and not in the metaphorical sense. According to Mr. Padalecki, his performance was 'well above expectations.' For all their superficial proximity, Jensen wasn't much like these people at all.

*

When he walks in to work an hour later, carrying a briefcase full of paperwork he'll never read, he feels more steady than he has in two days. Whatever is going on with Mr. Padalecki, it'll either blow over or it won't. He was perfectly fine for twenty-three years before he knew Jared; if this falls apart he'll cope. Jensen's good at coping. He's resigned.

He gets a note from Sophia as soon as he gets in, &lt;i&gt;meeting at 10am&lt;/i&gt;. During the work day they don't normally deviate from their 2pm appointment, can't afford to when the rest of Mr. Padalecki's day tends to be so tightly scheduled. Jensen feeds the note through the paper shredder and checks his watch. He's got about an hour.

Jensen shuffles some paper, signs a few forms that Janine sticks in front of him. With a new perspective borne of Jensen's resignation that this deal is almost over, he feels a little bad for never getting to know his own secretary. Does she have a family? Does she ever dream of doing more than being a secretary and covering for her boss, the office whore?

There's no ring on her finger; not married then. When Jensen tries to start some polite conversation, she looks at him like he's an idiot.

"Listen, Mr. Ackles. You've always seemed like a very nice man, but, some of us have actual work to do." She says it with a small smile though, softening the impact of her words.

"Right. Sorry," Jensen says and he waves her off. She bustles off with her stack of paperwork, and Jensen finds himself hoping that one day she gets promoted to his job, since she's already doing all the work anyway. He's pretty sure she's adequately compensated for all her skill and discretion, but not having the job title she deserves must grate on her.

Jensen kind of wishes he could simplify everything: Mr. Padalecki could be the boss and Janine could be his right hand woman, worrying about company morale and arranging accommodations for visiting consultants, or whatever it is she does. Jensen could be the well-kept whore, stay at home all day and pop in for a quickie whenever Jared was in the mood.  Life would be easier.

At 9:45am he gives himself a once-over in the bathroom, lubes and stretches himself; checks his reflection in the full length mirror to make sure he hasn't smeared any of it on his pants.

Sophia waves him on in, even though he's five minutes early. His palms are sweating and Jensen has to remind himself that he's not nervous. He's not.

Mr. Padalecki isn't on the phone, or sifting through paperwork, or typing away when Jensen walks in. He's just sitting with his hands folded on the desk and his expression is blank. Jensen feels like he's walked on to the set of The Apprentice. Any second now Mr. Padalecki's going to tell him he's the weakest link, goodbye. Wait no, isn't that another show? Jensen sits down, shakes his head to stop his mind from wandering.

"I want to put an addendum on your contract."  &lt;i&gt;Huh?&lt;/i&gt;

Mr. Padalecki just smiles.

"I wanna give you some homework, Jensen."

"Homework. Like algebra?" This one guy in college had a thing for Jensen dressing up like a schoolboy. They'd sneak into the Science Center late at night and fuck against the chalkboard, leaving smears and hand prints that would be written over with chemical formulas the next day.

Jensen's pretty sure that's not what Mr. Padalecki is talking about.

"It's not a kink. This isn't about sex. But I obviously need your permission to make any changes to the contract."

Changes to the contract meant the contract was still valid, meant Mr. Padalecki wasn't ripping it up and throwing it away because he was bored with Jensen and ready to move on. Jensen jumps at the idea.

"Yeah, yeah.  Changes are fine."

"Just one change for now. Sophia'll get the official stuff to you, but for now, let's talk about your assignment for the week." Jensen expects it to be something sexual; wear this toy, wear these clothes, don't touch yourself. Something along those lines. Instead, he gets, "I want you to spend some time thinking about what you want to do."

"Do?"

"You said all you had was this job. That's not healthy, Jen. And if you're not going to take care of yourself, then someone has to. Find a hobby, pick a sport, I don't care what it is. Just find _something._ Make sense?"

Jensen nods.

"Good. We'll have another meeting this time next week, and you can tell me what exciting new hobby you've picked up." Mr. Padalecki pauses. "And I do expect you to have found something by then," he adds sternly. It's a deadline, not an update.

"Yes sir."

"Awesome. Now get outta here, you have work to do," Mr. Padalecki says with an amused grin.

*

He calls Chris that afternoon, hoping to catch him somewhere in the stage between being passed out sleeping and busy setting up for a show.

"What's up?" Chris answers in a scratchy voice. He's either just woken up or he's had a rough night. Probably both.

"I need a hobby."

"Uh huh," Chris replies, sounding nonplussed. Jensen backtracks to explain the situation, staying as vague as he can but repeating almost word-for-word his conversation with Mr. Padalecki that morning.

"Shit, son. Why're you asking me?"

"Because you know me."

"Yeah, and so does Mr. Boss-man. He didn't tell you what to pick for a reason. And I ain't gonna do it either."

"What? Why not? I'm just asking for a couple suggestions, not a life plan."

"'Cause I know you, and if you never start making decisions about the small stuff, you're never gonna get around to the big stuff. So here's what you're gonna do. Get yourself a beer and a smoke, and spend a lil' time getting to know yourself. And I don't mean in the dirty way, you slut." Jensen can hear the grin in Chris's voice.

"Smoke some pot and think deep thoughts. Gee thanks for the advice, you redneck hippie," Jensen replies. He hangs up midway through Chris's angry objection to being called a 'hippie.'

*

Jensen spends two days staring at blank pieces of paper, crumpling them up, and throwing them in the trash. By Friday, his aim has improved, but every piece of paper is still coming up blank. He makes mental lists, one after another, but every time he sets pen to paper his mind fails him; he talks himself out of every new idea. He seriously considering walking in to Mr. Padalecki's office and telling his boss he wants to pick up macrame.

Instead, on Friday night he goes out drinking. He's sitting in a booth surrounded by his former neighbors, talking about absolutely nothing when Sandy finally prods him into talking.

"Haven't seen you around much, high roller," she teases and Jensen rolls his eyes. "Seriously, Jensen. You haven't come out with us in forever and now you show up looking like death warmed over. What's up?"

Sandy bumps their shoulders together as she swirls her drink in one hand.

"You ever feel like you don't have a life outside of work?"

"You _don't_ have a life outside of work," Chad replies, helpfully. He winces a second later when Sandy (presumably) kicks him under the table.

"I'm serious. I don't know what I'm doing with my life."

"Earning a ton of money at a prestigious company and living the high life?" a voice suggests from somewhere behind him. Jensen turns around and sees Sophia examining him sympathetically. "Ouch, scratch that last bit. You look _terrible_, sweetie."

Jensen is frozen in place, watching blankly as Chad bounds up to greet Sophia, ushering her into the booth in a mostly failed attempt to be a gentleman. Sophia settles in and orders a drink, but doesn't say anything more on the subject until Sandy prompts her.

"Okay spill, what the heck is that crazy boss of yours doing to our boy?"

Jensen still stuck on mute, pleads silently with Sophia to be very vague and then quickly change the subject. She mostly comes through for him.

"Jay can be a hardass sometimes, but I think the real problem is how much pressure Jensen puts on himself." As far as hints go, it's not a subtle one and they both know it. Sophia smiles at him, then launches into a story about some color coded report that Mr. Padalecki had nearly driven her crazy over. The conversation moves on and Jensen breathes a sigh of relief.

Near the end of the night, Sophia pulls hims aside.

"I know about your assignment," she admits. Jensen really wishes there was some polite way to avoid this conversation. Sure, he's always known that Sophia _knew_, but there's a difference between carefully worded messages, and actually sitting here talking to her face-to-face about it. His discomfort is probably obvious, because she continues on in a soft tone. "I'm not here to grill you on it or anything. It's just that Jared talks about you sometimes-"

Jensen looks up, horrified. "He-"

"Oh god no, not about that stuff. Really. It's just that he's worried about you. And I think you're taking this assignment thing like you have to show up on Wednesday with some huge plan to impress him, and that's not what he wants."

"And he can't just tell me what he wants because...?"

"He doesn't want this for himself, doofus. He wants you to want something for yourself. Right now, your life is your work; and Jared's a good guy and an awesome boss, but we both know one day that river is gonna run dry. He wants you to be okay when that happens."

He doesn't know why it hurts so much, hearing it laid out like that. He always knew this was a stop-gap measure, just a way to have some fun and pay the bills before he moved on to something else. Jensen goes home that night and falls asleep in front of thetv.

*

He spends the weekend cleaning out his apartment. It's not that he's acquired all that much junk since he moved in, but it's cathartic as hell.

Jensen spent over a year on the road with just his backpack and an old Fender guitar. He still has it, tucked away in a closet somewhere. He likes playing and can do it well enough, so that's kind of become his plan B in case he can't come up with a better answer for Jared by Wednesday.

But joining a band and heading out on the road has always been Chris's thing, not his. He just ended up tagging along.

The point is, Jensen thinks, that if he could last a year living only with what he could carry, he probably doesn't really need the majority of the crap in his apartment. He tells himself it's a spring cleaning; it has nothing at all to do with starting to mentally prepare himself for the end of this deal.

He boxes up shelves of books he's never read, it's a painful moment when he admits he'll probably never bother to read them and he might as well get rid of them. He keeps a few he's actually interested in, the ones he can't bear to give away. He bags up clothes he never wears, pots and pans and random kitchen utensils he somehow acquired but can't even name.

There's a full set of guest sheets for a second bedroom he never bothered to order furniture for, a set of expensive dinner china that he'll never use, and a million other odds and ends that somehow ended up in his life, unprompted and unwanted. He calls down to concierge and arranges for them to pick up the boxes and bags on Monday. He asks the voice on the phone about charities in the city, latches on to the first organization she mentions and tells her to donate everything.

His apartment looks abandoned. Empty shelves and boxes lining the wall by the door.  He's halfway in or halfway gone, sitting on the fence like always and waiting for the wind to tip him either way.

Saturday night he stays in, ignores Sandy's wheedling tone and sets his phone to silent. He paws through the drawer in his nightstand, one of the drawers in the apartment still left cluttered because he can't exactly donate his sex toys to random strangers. Not that he'd want to, anyway.

He pulls out a dildo; the one he'd bought online two weeks after he started working for Mr. Padalecki. The same one that'd gotten him in trouble a couple of months ago, just before he moved out of his old apartment.

It's light purple, not by choice but every other color had been out of stock and Jensen had been too frustrated to wait for a back order. It's not like he bought it for aesthetic value.

He sets it down on the pillow next to him, stares at it as he preps and stretches himself. It's one of those secret thrills that this toy makes him think of Mr. Padalecki; bought solely for the purpose of filling him up after he'd gotten spoiled by the feel of other man's cock inside of him. Not to mention Mr Padalecki does seem to favor girly colors for his shirts and ties.

He's done this so often over the past year that it takes effort not to slip into the same practiced, efficient movements. He takes his time, crooking his fingers and moving them around just to feel the stretch in his muscles. He pushes down against his own hand, closes his eyes and drifts away. Doesn't have to think about putting on a show. He lets his other hand slip down between his legs, rubs his fingers over shaved skin that he's still not quite used to.

He'd balked when Mr. Padalecki had first suggested it; bent over behind him, still deep inside even as his cock softened, both of them catching their breath. __

Just try it, Mr. Padalecki had whispered to him, _not like it won't grow back 'f you decide you don't like it._

Of course he'd done it, followed the directions to the address he'd been given on a sticky note to a discreet salon, where he was shaved by an efficient attendant whose face he never even saw past the privacy screen. He'd been shifting around and fidgeting in his chair the whole next day, unused to the feel of fabric against his newly exposed skin.

The open joy he saw on Mr. Padalecki's face at their next appointment had made it well worth the discomfort, even now as he touches himself he's a little proud to know he looks and feels exactly the way Mr. Padalecki wants him to.

As soon as he's open enough to take it, he pulls his fingers out and pushes the dildo in. He grips the base and grinds down on it, keeps his eyes tightly shut and imagines Mr. Padalecki standing nearby, calling out directions. _Push in further,_ imaginary Jared tells him. _And stay away from your sweet spot for now, baby. We're saving that for later._

He pushes the fake cock further inside, gasps when he grazes his prostate by mistake. He grips the base, hand slick with lube, and angles it back. The fantasy image of Mr. Padalecki fades out, replaced by flashes of memories, hot snippets of meetings tucked away for times just like this. Mr. Padalecki, opening him up sweet and slow on his first day as he whispered dirty promises in his ear. Later, knees aching and chest constricting from lack of air as Mr. Padalecki had gripped his head with both hands and fucked his face.

More recently, letting Jared indulge his sweet tooth by pouring warm caramel sauce over his chest and licking it off, hands smearing it into his skin. _I know this is hard for you, baby, but you gotta keep your legs together nice 'n tight. Don't let any get away,_ he'd said as he poured the sauce between Jensen's thighs, Jensen clenching his legs together in an effort to keep from spilling the sauce onto the table underneath him.

Jensen goes off like a shot at that last one, remembering the first and only time Mr. Padalecki had ever touched his lips to the very tip of Jensen's cock, tongue slipping out to taste the mix of caramel and precum gathered at the slit.

*

Jensen fucks himself twice more with the dildo on Sunday, finishes off half the bottle of Cuervo and hides his phone from himself because he's seriously considering texting Jared to tell him about it.

"I found a hobby!" He drunkenly informs the purple dildo, which at some point has become the stand in for Jared in more ways than one.  It's sitting innocently enough on the coffee table, offers no response.

Jensen falls asleep in the bathtub, curled protectively around the Jared-dildo and wearing one of his work shirts and a tie and nothing else.


	3. Chapter 3

  
He is predictably late to work on Monday. Janine takes one look at him and tells him to go home.

"Whatever you have, I don't want it," she informs him and points a stiff finger at the door.

Jensen doesn't quite have the energy to inform her that whatever he has, it isn't catching. He goes home.

Later in the morning the building staff come to collect his boxed up donations, they the stuff out while giving him worried looks. An hour later one of them is back with a large container of soup, bottled water and painkillers.

Jensen doesn't care who it's from or why; whether Sophia arranged it or the box haulers just thought he looked especially pathetic. The soup tastes great and he's thankful.

As soon as the door closes and he can stand again without feeling woozy, he swears off alcohol and pours the remainder of the Cuervo down the drain. It's only noon so he calls Sophia, (who already knows everything because when does she not?) Jensen glances at the corners of his living room for cameras.

She yells at him for being an idiot and tells him his two o'clock has already been canceled.

He's sick of watching tv, so he stands in front of his bookshelf and tries to uncross his eyes enough to read the titles of his remaining collection. He's got three books on football strategy and history, one dog-eared copy of Catcher in the Rye that his brother had bought him for his thirteenth birthday, and two reference books that he doesn't remember buying.

Non-Surgical Approaches to Sports Medicine and Rehabilitation: A Guide to Sport-Specific Recovery Programs.

Oh.

_Duh._

*

Jensen calls in sick on Tuesday as well. He figures he needs a vacation.

*

On Wednesday when Jensen walks into the office, no one tells him he looks like death warmed over and Jensen counts it as a win. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before; he'd spent too much time online looking up class schedules and bus routes. He opens his hands wide when he sees Janine.

"I'm not contagious I swear," he preemptively reassures her.

"Sure you aren't, party boy," she says as she plonks down a huge stack of folders. Some get stuck in his inbox, others in his outbox. One goes front and center on his desk, budget approvals he actually has to sign himself.

"I wasn't hungover!" Jensen protests, except he really was and they both know it.

"Relax, Mr. Ackles. You haven't taken a single sick day in eleven months. You are allowed, you know."

"Yeah, but then I'd be deprived of your sparkling company."

Janine gives him an unamused look as she gathers up the signed forms and hurries back to her desk.

A bunch of people who look familiar but whose names Jensen can't remember stop by to say they're glad he's feeling better. Jensen just nods and smiles at them, silently urging them to leave. He's sure they're nice enough people, but it's not exactly like they can commiserate over work.

At ten he's back in Mr. Padalecki's office, standing nervously in front of the desk like the past week never even happened. Mr. Padalecki waves him to a seat with barely a glance; he's pacing back and forth by the window and yelling at whoever is on the other end of his bluetooth.

When he finally finishes the call he pulls the earpiece off and tosses it on the desk. He sits down, looks up at Jensen with an expectant quirk of his eyebrows.

"So?"

Jensen's voice is stuck in his throat. In his mind, he walked in and confidently presented his idea.

In reality Jensen says, "I want to go back to school," and even he isn't sure if that was meant to be a question or not.

Mr. Padalecki opens his mouth to respond and Jensen is off and talking, like if he can't get a word in edgewise then Mr. Padalecki won't be able to say no. He speaks in a rush, "-and with the long afternoons I can get to the community college and back before -"

"Stop a sec," Jared cuts him off. Jensen mouth snaps shut like it's hinged. "You're not going to a community college."

Jensen takes a long second to wind up, he's a hair's breadth away from telling Mr. Padalecki to go fuck himself, in the literal sense.

"You're a VP of a Fortune 500 company; you're not going to a community college. We can work out the scheduling stuff, but you've gotta look at better schools."

"My academic record-"

"Won't be an issue." They sit in silence for a few minutes. Mr. Padalecki is the one to break it. "You really want to do this?"

Jensen meets his eyes. "Yes."

Mr. Padalecki smiles.

"Awesome."

*

When Jensen comes in for his 2pm meeting, Mr. Padalecki's office is empty and the door to the bathroom is ajar.

"In here," Mr. Padalecki calls and Jensen follows the sound of his voice into the bathroom. He finds Mr. Padalecki throwing a towel over his office chair and rolling it over so it faces the mirror.

"So, I'm going to college and you're...starting a barber shop?"

"Four days with no sex makes Jared a creative boy."

"I don't think I remember this part of the movie."

Jared just grins. "Shut up 'n strip. Want you to ride me, facing out."

Jensen shucks his clothes, kicks out of his shoes and socks as Mr. Padalecki does the same. Mr. Padalecki sits in the chair and looks at himself in the mirror, practically posing himself as he spreads his legs and jerks himself off slowly. Jensen steps up along side him and eyes Mr. Padalecki's reflection in the mirror.

"You done preening or d'you want another minute alone?"

Mr. Padalecki grabs him arm and tugs him over, pulls until he loses his balance and ends up sprawled sideways across Mr. Padalecki's lap and they end up rolling across the floor a bit in the struggle.

Jensen squirms a bit trying to steady himself while Mr. Padalecki pushes them back across the bathroom to the mirror. He can feel Mr. Padalecki's cock against his thigh, wraps his arm around the other man's back for some support so he doesn't slide off the chair.

They haven't even started and they're both a little out of breath, muttering 'alright, alright. c'mon' to each other as they maneuver. Jensen twists, shifts his legs so he's kneeling.   He's straddling the chair facing outwards, while Mr. Padalecki keeps a tight grip around his waist so he doesn't fall.

Jensen braces his hands on the armrests, feels Mr. Padalecki behind him whispering 'I gotcha' against his back as one hand slips from his waist to his ass, guiding him down.  Jensen breathes out as he lowers himself down, tense all the way from his shoulders and arms down to his thighs. Jensen's body is clenched up with the effort of not falling, and not sinking down too fast.

They both need a moment to recover once Jensen is fully seated, thighs to thighs and chest to stomach. Jensen is hunched forward, forehead almost touching the mirror as he leans against Mr. Padalecki's arm, tightly wrapped across his chest and hand clutched on his shoulder. His other arm is still wrapped around Jensen's waist, steadying.

Mr. Padalecki pulls him up, urges him on with his hands as Jensen pushes with his legs and arms. They move achingly slow, sweating and working together they manage a rhythm; Jensen fucking down and back, guided by Mr. Padalecki's hands.

Mr. Padalecki watches them in the mirror, peering over Jensen's hunched back and biting lightly at the skin of his shoulders. The hand on Jensen's shoulder slips up to his neck, then further up to cradle his chin; forcing him to look up and watch himself in the mirror.

It's almost hypnotizing; watching them like this.  Jensen can see every filthy detail; the flex of his thighs as he pushes back, his cock bobbing obscenely hard and red against his stomach. He can see the tendons in Mr. Padalecki's arm flexing as he holds him up and forces him to watch. Every part of his body is aching but he can't stop and he doesn't have the strength to pick up the pace.

Every movement is controlled, both of them careful despite the strain and intensity.  Mr. Padalecki's grip on his chin falls away, drifts down to rub at his shoulder in gentle encouragement. His other hand wraps around Jensen's cock near the head, not moving, just making a tight fist and letting Jensen fuck up into it.

Jensen's muscles are screaming at him by the time he comes. He collapses back against Jared, still pumping his hips to work them both through it. He feels Jared come seconds later, wetness smearing between them as their bodies push against each other.

Jensen leans his head back against Jared's shoulder, twisting and curling until his forehead is tucked against Jared's neck. Mr. Padalecki is breathing heavily, eyes still locked on to the mirror and his hand still wrapped loosely around Jensen's cock. His thumbs rubs over the head, smearing through the last pathetic dribbles of come.

"Mmm, look't you," he breathes out.

"Pervert," Jensen mumbles back, feels the shudder of Mr. Padalecki's chest under him as he chuckles.

*

Mr. Padalecki has to literally lift Jensen up off the chair when he stands up, and it's a perilous few seconds before he finds his balance and finds a grip on Jensen's body that isn't slippery with sweat. They stumble over to the bathtub, Jensen half-leans half-sits against the side and stretches out his legs, hissing at the burn of pins and needles.

Mr. Padalecki fills the tub and helps Jensen climb in. They sit on opposite sides, Mr. Padalecki pulls Jensen's feet into his lap and rubbing them lightly as the circulation returns. Jensen lazily eyes the clock over the door; they don't have very much time left to clean up.

"Gotta say, that little vacation of yours did wonders for your stamina," Mr. Padalecki teases as he runs the pads of his thumbs under the arches of Jensen's feet.

"Fuck you, my stamina is excellent."

A few minutes later Mr. Padalecki sits up, leans over to give Jensen a quick and dirty kiss on the lips.

"Come out whenever you're ready, I've just got paperwork and email stuff to do today, no other meetings."

He climbs out of the tub and gets dressed, leaving Jensen to soak in the warm water.

*

When Jensen gets back to his office, he finds a small stack of brochures on his desk: Drexel, Philadelphia U, Thomas Jefferson, UPenn...a few others. Expensive schools, Mr. Padalecki's subtle way of telling him money is no concern.

Jensen flips through the brochures and checks out the school websites. A while later Janine walks in, and shuffles around the papers in his inbox and outbox just for show.

"Give me your short list by the end of the day and I'll set up meetings with the Admissions people."

"You're in on this?"

"Of course I'm in on it, Mr. Ackles. Who do you think stuck the brochures on your desk?"

"And you're okay with it? Handling all this-" Jensen waves vaguely to encompass his desk, "while I go play college co-ed?"

Janine cocks her hips, shifts the pile of folders in her arms. "You're having a quarter-life crisis," she says, with finger quotes.

"I am?"

"You are," she nods. "You came to the realization that your work was no longer fulfilling, and have decided to pursue a new career in physical therapy, helping people, teaching little orphans how to walk, whatever. And because you're such a stand up guy, you're going to continue to work from home while you go to school, come in to the office a few days a week just to check in. And all correspondence to be handled by your new Assistant VP."

Jensen raises his eyebrows. "And this new Assistant VP is you, right?"

"Thanks for the promotion," Janine winks as she walks out.

*

Things start to change quickly.

Jensen meets with Admissions reps, checks out class schedules and visits the classrooms and facilities. In the end, he closes his eyes and flips a coin and UPenn wins out over Thomas Jefferson by the slimmest of margins.

Janine moves herself into Jensen's office by bits and pieces. Some pieces are bigger than others; a second desk is delivered and the office rearranged to accommodate them both, since Jensen won't be there very much and Janine has probably needed her own space for a while now.

He still has daily 2pm with Mr. Padalecki, who asks him for updates right at the beginning of every meeting. Jensen finds it hard to believe that Mr. Padalecki isn't getting detailed updates from Sophia or Janine. Probably both. Before he knows it, his classes are set and the new term starts in a week.

"Did I even get an acceptance letter?" He asks Janine, baffled.

"Second filing cabinet on your left, top drawer. There's a folder labeled 'Jensen's school crap,' " she replies without looking up from her computer. With the promotion and spending five or so hours every day sharing an office, Janine's become a lot less formal with him.

Jensen kind of misses it, but only a little bit.

The acceptance letter is practically gushing with praise, Jensen can only imagine what kind of story Mr. Padalecki's team of miracle workers fed to the Admissions board to garner such enthusiasm. If he flunks out, Mr. Padalecki is going to be so pissed. Jensen's throat closes up a little at the thought. He shoves the letter back in the folder and checks his watch.

Showtime.

"Have fun," Janine sing-songs and waves at him as he leaves the office. He flips her the finger in reply. Okay, so he's gotten a little less formal as well.

*

He sucks Mr. Padalecki off, kneeling under the desk and cramped in the small space between the other man's legs and the top of the desk. Mr. Padalecki doesn't even touch him; keeps his hands braced on the table top the entire time.

Jensen swallows the load and licks him clean. When he's finished, Mr. Padalecki drops a tissue down between his legs to wipe up. Jensen wipes his hands and carefully tucks Mr. Padalecki's cock back in his pants. He wipes his chin and waits for some sign that he's allowed to come up.

Mr. Padalecki rolls back his chair a few inches, just enough that he can look down and see Jensen's face.

"So I have this idea for tonight," he says.

"And?"

"And it's a little outside of our usual thing. How do you feel about sushi?"

"I've only had it a couple times."

"Awesome. So come by at six tonight, there'll be a couple people there to help you get set up. They're totally professional, don't worry."

It doesn't put Jensen's mind at ease at all. He knows Mr. Padalecki almost never gets home before seven pm, and what the hell does he have planned that Jensen needs an hour and _professional help_ to prepare for?

"Jen?" Mr. Padalecki nudges Jensen's knee with the toe of his shoe. "It's nothing outside the range of your contract. You're gonna have to take your clothes off, but no one's gonna touch you. Promise." He's still nervous, but he's pretty sure Mr. Padalecki wouldn't lie to him. "Now, you still hard?"

Jensen nods. He's gone a little soft thinking about the surprise Mr. Padalecki has planned for tonight, but sucking cock has always gotten him off like nothing else.  Especially Mr. Padalecki's, which means his pants are still uncomfortably tight.

Mr. Padalecki shifts in his chair, stretches one of his legs between Jensen's knees. The top of his shoe presses up against Jensen's crotch, Jensen's mouth falls open and his face heats with a rising blush at the implication.

But embarrassed as he feels, when Mr. Padalecki orders "Go on," in a rough voice Jensen doesn't even hesitate. He humps against Mr. Padalecki's shoe, the rub of expensive leather against his dress slacks making obscene squeaking noises in the quiet room. Mr. Padalecki is completely still, calmly watches as Jensen ruts against him, panting and depserate.

He comes with a quiet groan, pushing his forehead against Mr. Padalecki's knee as his hips continue twitching forward, forcing out the last few pulses of his orgasm.

Finally Mr. Padalecki's hand lands on the top of his head, fingers scratching their way through his hair.

"So we're on for tonight, right?"

"No fair, asking me when I'm all fuzzy," Jensen rasps out, eyes closed and face still pressed against Mr. Padalecki's leg. Mr. Padalecki jiggles his leg, bouncing his knee up and down to wake him up. He doesn't stop until Jensen lifts his head and replies.

"Yeah, yeah. Six pm at your place, we're on."

Jensen crawls out from under the desk and stands up slowly, knees aching from the hard floor.

"Oh! And uh, wash up real good before you come over," Mr Padalecki adds as Jensen heads off to the bathroom to change his pants.

*

At 5:55pm Jensen is standing outside the service entrance to Mr. Padalecki's apartment, running his hands through his hair and generally procrastinating.

He's only wearing sweats and a t-shirt, since Mr. Padalecki usually prefers him casual when they have appointments outside the office. Jensen is worried he was supposed to dress up for this, does sushi sound like a formal thing? Jensen's only had it twice, he's not sure.

Eventually the tension gets too much and he just knocks on the door.

A middle aged woman he's never seen before opens the door and waves him inside without introducing herself. He follows her through the apartment to the dining room, where the table has been cleared of it's usual decorations and replaced with a simple dark red tablecloth. There's another person in the room, a younger man carrying a tray of neatly wrapped sushi. They motion for him to strip off his clothes and lay down on the table, all without saying a word.

Jensen takes a deep breath, lets it out as he pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off his sweats. And to think he was worried about his clothes. _No one's gonna touch you. Promise._ He hears Mr. Padalecki's words from earlier and relaxes a bit.

He lays down on the table completely naked, face up and feeling exposed. The woman just smiles at him gently and carefully arranges a few dark purple leaves over his crotch. Oh yeah, much better.

Jensen's pretty sure by now what's going on, he's heard stories about parties like this where people serve as platters for food. Except he's pretty sure this party is a private affair; exhibitionism isn't in his contract.

The man taps at his arms with a chopstick and mimes folding his arms behind his head. He follows the instruction, feeling his chest and stomach stretch as he reaches up, his nipples pebbling in the slightly cool air. The two chefs stick to Mr. Padalecki's promise; arranging the sushi carefully over his chest in a pattern Jensen can't make out from his vantage point.

They both look him over with critical eyes, adjusting his leaves and setting small bowls of soy sauce, wasabi, and ginger around his body. Finally they leave.

Jensen is left alone and bored, slightly ticklish from the light weight of the sushi on his chest. He's a little cold, not just from the temperature of the room but the sushi itself is chilled, little beads of moisture forming on his skin and he struggles to stay still.

He maps out his classes next week, makes mental lists of the books he still needs to buy. He also has to figure out where his Tuesday seminar is going to be, since all his class schedule had was a weird acronym neither he or Janine had been able to make any sense of.

Eventually he hears the soft _snick_ of a door closing and a jangle of keys being dropped on a side table. He clenches his hands and curls his toes, shivers as he listens to Mr. Padalecki's footsteps coming closer. Jensen keeps his eyes closed; doesn't want to see Mr. Padalecki's reaction.

He hears Mr. Padalecki pulling out a chair, sitting down somewhere off to his side. A warm hand settles on Jensen's thigh, rubs softly and flicks playfully at the leaves covering his crotch. Jensen opens his eyes to see Mr. Padalecki watching him, amused.

"How much do you hate me right now?"

"You could've warned me," Jensen grumbles but without any real rancor. It's a little awkward and embarrassing, but it's not _bad_ per se.

Mr. Padalecki expertly preps a sushi roll with ginger and wasabi, pops it in his mouth with a practiced flick of his chopsticks. The next few pieces go down in a similar manner, quick and easy.  Mr. Padalecki must be hungry, he barely takes the time to chew. His other hand stays firm on Jensen's thigh, gently massaging the muscle.

Jensen's stomach growls.

"You had dinner?"

"Nope."

"Open up."

Mr. Padalecki feeds him a spring roll, wipes up a trail of soy sauce that escapes down Jensen's chin with his fingers and lets Jensen suck it off. It's a little awkward to chew and swallow at this angle, but he manages.

When he licks his lips, mouth dry, Mr. Padalecki notices.  He stands and grabs a shot glass from the bar, pours a little red wine into the glass and tips it carefully into Jensen's mouth. Jensen has to crane his neck forward to avoid spilling, but he can feel warmth spreading inside him as it flows down his throat.

After that Mr. Padalecki alternates, taking a few pieces for himself before feeding pieces to Jensen slowly so he can chew and swallow, offering sips of wine in between. By the time they finish off the sushi, Jensen is a little light-headed with the wine and his own arousal.

Mr. Padalecki stacks the bowls and plucks the leaves off of Jensen's crotch. He swats Jensen with the leaves.

"Go wash up, you smell like fish," he adds as he walks back to the kitchen.

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" Jensen calls back. He climbs off the table and heads off to the bathroom.

They end up fucking in the shower, one of Jensen's legs hitched up over one of Mr. Padalecki's arms; his other leg slipping on the tile and trying to balance all his weight. He'll have bruises on his hips and thighs, fingerprints marking him up like stamps of ownership.

When he's done, Mr. Padalecki pulls out and rinses off, slaps Jensen's ass as he steps out of the shower and tells him he's free to go home for the night.

Jensen stays in the shower and jerks off alone, pushing his fingers into ass and remembering Jared's hands gently cupping his jaw to feed him sips of wine.

*

Jensen has classes Monday through Thursday, 9am to 11am, and one afternoon class on Wednesdays. Janine blocks off Tuesday afternoons for him to come in and do the tiny bit of 'actual work' that she needs him present for.

Mr. Padalecki gets him weeknights, 8pm to 11pm.

"And some mornings," Mr. Padalecki throws in while Sophia scrawls notes and edits on a copy of their contract. Sophia just rolls her eyes at her boss's eager tone and looks at Jensen for confirmation. After a year of this, he's used to being haggled over. Jensen nods.

"I'm gonna say no more than two mornings a week - " Sophia starts to say, but Mr. Padalecki is pouting like a five year old and interrupts her.

"Three."

Sophia looks over at Jensen again with raised eyebrows.

"Three's fine," he says and clears his throat.

"No more than three times a week, and never on weekends," she forges on. "We good?"

They both nod. "I'll type it up and have a copy for you both to sign within the hour." She leaves the office, closing the door behind her.

"Nervous about next week?" Mr. Padalecki asks.

"No. Yes. I don't know." He wipes his hands on his pants. "I haven't been to school in two years, I don't know how it's gonna be."

"You'll be fine, Jensen. C'mere, I've got a present for you for next week."

Jensen walks around to the other side of the desk, half expecting a fancy pen or a briefcase or something. Mr. Padalecki holds up a small plug. It's black and elegantly shaped, surface smooth and a little cold to the touch. Jensen purses his lips.

"I know, I know. No messing around and no interrupting your classes. This isn't like that. Lemme put it in you."

Jensen turns around and pushes his pants down to his thighs, lays his hands flat on the desk and waits. There's a soft squelch as the lube is squeezed out, and then a cold slick press as the plug slips inside him. Mr. Padalecki plays with the base of it, pushing it forward and letting it slip out millimeters at a time.

"I want you to wear this on Monday," _push, slip_ "and any time you get nervous, you just stop and think of how this feels inside you," _push, slip_ "and remember that no matter what happens in class, when you get home I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll have to stand through all o' Tuesday."

Mr. Padalecki gives the plug a little twist and then wipes his hands off and does up Jensen's pants for him.

"We good?" He asks, holding Jensen by the hips, plug still clenched inside of him.

"_Fuck,_ yes. Yessir. We're good."

Whether or not Jensen will wear the plug on Monday isn't even a question.


End file.
